


Promises

by heliodor



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Biblical Scripture References (Abrahamic Religions), Biblical Themes (Abrahamic Religions), Blasphemy, Communication, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, First Time, M/M, Marriage, Miscommunication, Queer Themes, Rainbows, Requited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2020-07-27 14:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20047300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heliodor/pseuds/heliodor
Summary: "Crowley nodded. 'I like what they’ve done with the rainbow. I never liked that ark business. How can anyone have the gall to paste a bloody sign up in the sky as a promise not to kill everyone by drowning them again when people still die in floods all the time? No, this is much better than an empty promise.''It’s still a promise though,” Aziraphale said slowly. “I think it’s a promise for them to stay true to themselves.'"Aziraphale and Crowley try to form a life together after the Apocalypse.





	1. Hot Pink (Sex)

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to wait until I was 100% finished writing this fic to start posting it, but in the interest of lighting a fire under my own ass so I finish it I'm going to start posting chapters once a week now. This is mostly because I have an even bigger project I want to work on after this.
> 
> So until all the chapters are posted this fic will update once a week some time roughly in the middle of the week. Will update tags to reflect content in new chapters.

** _i. sex_ **

“Honey, you're touching something; you're touching me  
I'm under your thumb, under your spell, can't you see?”

“Breakthru” - Queen

\---

In the End the first heaven and the first earth did not pass away to be replaced with new ones as it was written.

After the End there was a bench and a bottle passed between an angel and a demon. The night was quiet and still, the stillest one since the first nights millennia ago before there was any life to fill the air with noise and music. And a sense of anticipation hovered over the face of the earth like someone who had just awoken to the realization they actually had nowhere in particular to be and they were holding up their blanket, unsure if they wanted to get out or pull the covers over their head and snooze for an extra thirty minutes. All of creation seemed to be getting over their collective disbelief that they’d be allowed to settle into that delicious extra snooze before they had to get up for the end times.

A bus pulled up.

Then the angel said, “I suppose I should get him to drop me off at the bookshop.” And the angel saw the resulting look of naked sympathy half hidden behind the demon’s sunglasses and saw that it was Good.

“It burned down, remember?” the demon reminded the angel in the gentlest of tones. In a rare display of grace from a being who should have had all of his stripped away, the demon offered, “You can stay at my place, if you like.”

And, lo, a new Side was drawn that had in truth had already existed almost as long as human history, and a new Arrangement would soon be named. 

A little brown beetle skittered down a leg of the bench and off into the grass unseen as the angel and the demon boarded the bus.

\---

Something was wrong with Crowley. Aziraphale was sure of it. The bus ride to London had been silent, even pleasantly so after all the excitement of the past few days, but Aziraphale noticed how Crowley’s hands had twitched for all that the demon had sprawled in his seat with an air of careful nonchalance. Crowley had not stopped looking at Aziraphale once during that time, not even when he turned his head towards the window, and now as he lead Aziraphale to his door he wasn’t looking at all.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked softly, carefully dipping his toes in to test the waters of the fragile peace between them.

“Hm? What?” Crowley was staring again. He was stood in the entryway to his flat so that Aziraphale could not pass. He only took a startled step back to maintain distance when Aziraphale stepped forward to close the door behind himself.

“You seem distracted, my dear. Will you let me in?” Aziraphale tried again.

The words shook Crowley out of his stupor.

“I’ve always been here. I’ve always been ready to let you in. I’ve always… And you never— Are _you_ ready to accept me?” Crowley spat before he took notice of Aziraphale’s wide eyes and stiffened. “Er or. I mean, come in. Mi casa and all that.”

Crowley’s spine uncoiled carefully, casually. Deliberately. Any other day Aziraphale probably would have let him get away with it. Aziraphale would have let Crowley make a vague hand gesture to indicate the ‘and all that’ and slink away to miracle up some wine in the kitchen. Today Aziraphale caught Crowley’s wrist in an iron grip to keep him from wandering off because he found that he was suddenly very tired of their usual speaking in circles and working at cross-purposes.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale repeated more firmly. “My dear boy, please tell me what’s troubling you. I only want to help. I know I haven’t been a good friend to you as of late, but I’m here now to make up for it. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I,” Crowley started and stopped. “You.” He stared down at Aziraphale’s soft hand on his wrist and gave it a half-hearted shake. “Haven’t been?”

At the shake Aziraphale dropped Crowley’s wrist politely and folded his own hands in front of himself. He didn’t want to overwhelm the demon when he knew genuine displays of emotion could be uncomfortable for Crowley. Aziraphale was starting to suspect it has more to do with Crowley’s sweet and surprising shyness than his essential infernal nature. And it was okay; really it was. 

Aziraphale could stand waiting for Crowley to feel up to share what was on his mind for years if it came to that.

Crowley started to take off his sunglasses to rub at his eyes but stopped and pushed them back up his nose. “You’re a better friend than I deserve.”

It was delivered so quietly Aziraphale almost wasn’t sure he had heard what he heard, and he had to frown at the _wrongness_ of it. How? How was he a better friend than Crowley deserved? He was the one who worked behind Crowley’s back and held fast to his prejudices and thwarted Crowley’s overtures of friendship at every turn when Crowley only ever wanted to pass time with someone else who could understand how beautiful the world really was. Aziraphale understood that now, and it brought him shame. Crowley humbled him.

“I lied to you,” Aziraphale presented as his counterpoint.

“You’re an angel,” Crowley shot back tiredly. “I’m a demon. You can’t trust me.”

Aziraphale waved a hand as if to shoo away the comment. “Nonsense. I feel…” He let his gaze flicker away demurely before he resumed ardent eye contact. He could just see Crowley’s unblinkingly bright eyes through those ridiculous sunglasses, suddenly wishing them gone so he could get some kind of hint about what was going on in Crowley’s head. “I feel almost as if I can trust you more than I can trust myself at this point. You’re always there when I need you. Sometimes you know what I need before I do.”

Crowley’s breath hissed out sharply. “I’m too selfish, angel.”

“If this is about escaping to Alpha Centauri, I did think inviting me along was a lovely gesture, a little foolish but nothing to be so upset about.” Aziraphale smiled as warmly as he could manage to try to put his friend at ease.

“No.” Crowley shook his head. “I’m too selfish. I want too much.”

“But what does that mean?” Aziraphale asked, and he might as well have been talking to himself for all the response he got. “What do you want Crowley?”

Crowley didn’t answer.

There had to be clues if only Aziraphale could connect them. He frowned as he thought back on everything Crowley ever asked of him. There was the Arrangement, of course, which may have been selfish but also served to benefit Aziraphale as well, a few petty little requests that Aziraphale was pretty sure now was just Crowley teasing him like a schoolboy pulling pigtails, and— Oh. There was that request for the holy water that Aziraphale had denied to Crowley for an entire century. Crowley was still here so Aziraphale’s worst fears had never come to fruition on that one. It wasn’t a long list to be honest. Crowley never asked for much that Aziraphale wouldn’t be willing to give anyway. Aziraphale was the one always asking Crowley for small favors and help even with things he knew Crowley didn’t like.

Maybe that wasn’t the right line of thought.

Aziraphale thought about the way they bickered now, how it contained no real barbs and mostly felt comfortable like a well-loved sweater. He thought about how he used to watch the ducks and feel guilty for wishing he didn’t have to come up with a pretense to see Crowley. He thought about being crowded up against a wall very gently considering the way Crowley had snarled in his face so close their noses touched. He thought about Crowley knowing his scent.

“What do you want, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked as he took a careful step forward with his hands up as if to try and avoid spooking a wild animal (which he supposed Crowley was; he wasn’t sure anyone could ever really tame the wily Serpent of Eden).

“Ssstop,” Crowley hissed but didn’t move away. That had to account for something. 

Aziraphale caught both of Crowley’s limp hands in his own and took a step backwards. Pulling Crowley along with him, he pressed himself back against Crowley’s front door and pressed Crowley’s hands to his own collar and held them there. And Aziraphale said unto Crowley, “Is this what you want? Tell me. Whatsoever thy soul desireth, I will even do it for thee.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking me.” Crowley pushed his shades up into his shock of red hair and frowned down at Aziraphale.

His eyes flicked down to Aziraphale’s mouth and back up. 

It was just a split second, but it was enough for Aziraphale to see. It was enough for Aziraphale to know.

Finally here after the End of all things, on the eve of the dawn of a new Beginning, Aziraphale could be brave. He could cup Crowley’s face in his hand and coax him even closer so their foreheads pressed together.

Aziraphale’s voice came out too hoarse when he tried to speak to rephrase his question, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “What do you need?”

“You,” Crowley choked out, collapsing into Aziraphale’s arms. 

“You have me, dear,” Aziraphale insisted as he held Crowley up. “You have me.”

\---

It was funny how things never work out how you expect. 

For example, Aziraphale thought it was funny that he’d always expected Crowley would be somewhat of a forceful lover, not in a negative way just in that he’d thought Crowley would want to take charge of whatever little dalliance they might have shared. Instead Crowley was a fretfully needy little thing and seemed like he’d shake apart and discorporate if he didn’t have Aziraphale’s grounding hands on his slim hips.

Crowley’s kisses were sweet, kittenish pecks that _Aziraphale_ encouraged him to deepen. His caresses were butterfly light abortive little touches that hinted at some hidden fear, whether it was of accidentally causing harm or of being asked to stop Aziraphale did not know.

Then Crowley shifted and Aziraphale could feel his arousal through his sinfully tight trousers.

Aziraphale reflexively tightened his hold when Crowley tried to pull away and shushed him. “Calm down, love. I have you. I’ll take care of you.”

“You can’t.” Crowley pressed his face against Aziraphale’s shoulder. “You can’t ssssay thingsss like that.”

“Like what?” Aziraphale blinked, honestly confused. 

“‘m still gettin’ used to the idea that you could want me,” Crowley mumbled sulkily into Aziraphale’s coat.

“Why wouldn’t I want you?” Aziraphale waited a beat and pried Crowley off to hold at arm’s length when he only got an indistinct hum in reply. “I do have eyes you know. I notice the way you swing your hips when you walk and how you wear your clothes so…. So rakishly disheveled these days. You mean you haven’t been trying to tempt me?”

“Tempt you? No!” Crowley pulled out of Aziraphale’s arms entirely and paced away only to come right back and grab the angel’s hand as he admitted, “It’s not always all about you. I dresssss for myssself. I didn’t think you would notice even if I tried.”

Aziraphale let Crowley lead him through his strangely cavernous flat that appeared to be made out of concrete, somehow minimalist and opulent at the same time. He couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at the sparse decor as he was taken to the bedroom.

“I suppose I can see where you may have gotten that impression,” Aziraphale conceded. “I can be a bit—”

“Prissy,” Crowley interjected. “Fussy. Prudish.”

“Yes, well,” Aziraphale said testily. He could see Crowley’s collar bones jutting invitingly out from his partially unbuttoned shirt and was starting to think he would rather like to get his mouth on them to see what kind of sounds he could wring out of his demon. “It isn’t as if I haven’t had sex before.”

One moment Crowley was standing in front of Aziraphale fully clothed in the middle of the room and the next he was spread naked on his king size bed like an exquisitely plated delicacy. He looked a little flustered like he hadn't meant to do that. It seemed that even demons could blush.

“Eager,” Aziraphale teased.

It took a few moments for Aziraphale to catch up on the nakedness front because he decided to do things the human way and remove all his layers piece by piece. Perhaps it was a little unkind, but he liked the way Crowley’s eyes followed his every movement, slit pupils blown wide. Crowley did not touch himself while he watched even though his member stood at attention. He had to be aching for a little friction.

Crowley didn’t even move when Aziraphale crawled up the bed to kneel between his legs.

“Oh.” Aziraphale tilted his head to the side curiously as he took in the long line of Crowley’s body, the expectant angles. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so passive.”

“Do you want me to snarl and sink my teeth into you?” Crowley made some petulant grabby hands until Aziraphale leaned down to press their bodies together. “I’m a big, scary demon here to steal your virtue.” The effect was somewhat undermined by happy sigh Crowley let out when his erection brushed against Aziraphale’s hip.

“Don’t pout. It’s not becoming,” Aziraphale scolded, swatting at Crowley’s thigh.

A sharp intake of breath that Aziraphale barely had time to catalogue as a reaction for further experimentation later and suddenly Crowley was writhing under him. Finally this was more like what Aziraphale expected. It was a pleasure to manifest the right equipment to slot alongside Crowley. Aziraphale adjusted so he could take both of them in hand, miracling his palm slippery with warmed lube to ease the slide.

The moan that punched out of Crowley. The hunger of his kisses. The desire that flowed between them in a feedback loop.

“Aziraphale.” Crowley panted against the side of Aziraphale’s mouth. “Angel, I thought you died. I couldn’t feel you anywhere.”

Aziraphale shushed him with another searing kiss. “I’m here now. I’m with you.”

“You are,” Crowley gasped in agreement.

There wasn’t much more that needed to be said after that. Crowley’s hands wandered. He clutched at Aziraphale’s arms and stroked down his back, always seemingly trying to pull Aziraphale closer into himself. While the suggestion was tempting, this was a first time and a bit of a sweaty, desperate one at that. Neither of them could really conjure up the coordination for anything more than rubbing against each other by that point. It was all very human.

They were strung too tight to last.

Crowley came with a shout when Aziraphale sucked what would be an impressive hickey into his neck if he allowed it to stay. The sudden increase in volume in Crowley’s sounds startled Aziraphale into following soon thereafter.

Aziraphale pushed away to land on his back next to Crowley, separate for a moment until Crowley turned to mold himself to Aziraphale’s side. And they were kissing again. Languidly.

Crowley’s kisses were honey sweet. They stirred a thick syrupy heat low in Aziraphale’s belly even though he was already spent. If this was what Crowley wanted Aziraphale would give it to him. It made Aziraphale ache to think he could have shared this pleasure with Crowley much earlier if only he had been brave enough to meet Crowley halfway. He hoped he was worth Crowley’s patience.

\---

Aziraphale woke with a start. He didn’t remember falling asleep and had the distinct impression he hadn’t of his own volition. _Something_ had eased him out of consciousness while it worked; he could feel the change.

“Where are you going?” Crowley sat up blearily when Aziraphale got out of bed to fetch a burnt scrap of paper from his folded pile of clothes.

“Something has changed. I know you can feel it. I need to go out there and see what happened.” Aziraphale walked back to the side of the bed to smile down at Crowley. “I need to see the bookshop.”

Crowley was out of his lazy sprawl and standing in front of Aziraphale to clutch both of his hands in seconds. “You can’t,” he said firmly. “It’s too dangerous. Who knows who Above might have sent to wait for you there. I’ll go instead. They’ll be looking for you; I’ll slip away before they even notice once I see what’s there.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Aziraphale said slowly, remembering prophecy: ‘choofe your faces wisely.’ The seeds of a plan started to germinate. “We can’t stay in your flat forever. Soon our sides will come for us, and I’d rather not let them drag me away from you.”

“I think they would like that. Derive some sadistic glee from ripping us apart,” Crowley replied just as slowly as he worked through the problem on his own. “They must know what we’ve done.”

“They think we had already done it,” Aziraphale pointed out as he remembered some comments his fellow angels made when they had him cornered over the past week.

“What?” Crowley's face flickered through an impressive range of emotions very quickly before deciding bewildered fit best. Really he was so expressive. It was a good thing he wore sunglasses or no one would ever take him seriously as a demon.

They did need to stay on topic though so Aziraphale pressed on. “What we need to do then is to present ourselves.”

“Somewhere public,” Crowley caught the thread and expanded it. “Open. To prevent damage. And the possibility that humans might get in the way I suppose.”

Aziraphale felt a little rush of exhilaration. Was this what it felt like to be on the same page? To be working together fully? “Yes! And what if we could ensure that our sides don’t take the right one of us? Do you think,” he looked down at where he had the prophecy clasped between his and Crowley’s hands. “Do you think it would be possible to trade corporations?”

“Oh, angel, that’s devious.” Crowley’s face split in a wicked grin that Aziraphale just had to taste now that he was allowed.

(It tasted like victory.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter Aziraphale quotes 1 Samuel 20:4 KJV
> 
> In the next chapter: a misunderstanding or two and even more blasphemy


	2. Red (Life)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read the comments left on the first chapter, but I haven't responded to any because I've been busy. Thank you and everyone who left kudos and everything for your interest in this fic! 
> 
> That said, are you ready for some good old fashioned melodrama?

** _ii. life_ **

“Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine.”

Song of Solomon 1:2

\---

What was an angel to do after being dragged to hell to bathe in holy water in a dangerous ruse to save a demon? Have lunch at the Ritz? Toast the world with fond smiles? Let said demon take him back to his for another shot at ravishing the wily old serpent?

Yes, it turned out. Yes to all of the above.

Aziraphale would stop the Apocalypse again _by himself_ just to be able to lie in bed holding Crowley in the afterglow.

\---

“I’m so sorry, dear. I’ll fix them if you like.”

“Hm?” Crowley snapped out of his doze, frowning at the fact that Aziraphale had stopped running a perfect well-manicured hand through his hair. Maybe he should grow his hair again so there would be more to pet. That could be nice. Maybe Aziraphale would braid it for him.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said to draw him back to the present. “I mean those. I’m afraid I’ve been too rough with you. I didn’t know it was possible.”

Crowley looked down when Aziraphale gestured vaguely towards his legs. He pursed his lips as he contemplated the fingerprint bruises that bloomed from his hips to his knees exactly as he expected from a good rawing. When he spread his legs a little he could see a bite mark on his inner thigh. Yep, he had goaded Aziraphale into that one with some relentless teasing that fell just short of outright begging. Some excellent work, that. A sign of a temptation well done.

“Nah.” Crowley tried to push his head into Aziraphale’s face so the angel would get the hint and get back to work and grunted as he was pushed away.

“It would be no trouble at all really,” Aziraphale insisted. “And I could fix your neck and shoulders while I’m at it. Oh dear, but I did get carried away, didn’t I?”

Crowley had to lift himself up and away from Aziraphale’s warm, soft comfort to avoid healing hands in places he didn’t want them. He found himself too lazy to get out of bed and just slithered down to lie between Aziraphale’s legs. Yes, this was still nice. He could rest his head just above Aziraphale’s knee and stare at his beautiful, thick cock.

“What’s gotten into you?” Aziraphale asked, sitting up as if to chase after the demon.

Crowley had his tongue poked out and was trying to very subtly move to touch it against something interesting. He stilled against Aziraphale’s thigh. “If you’d rather I didn’t I’ll stop.”

“What?” Aziraphale frowned. Crowley loved his big blue eyes. They were so round, so crinkly at the corners. Made him look so innocent and kindly when Go— Sa— _Crowley_ only knew what dirty thoughts lurked behind them. “Oh, not _that_. Really, you’re incorrigible. I’m trying to have a serious conversation.”

“And I’m trying to— ” The retort died in Crowley’s throat when he shot another look up towards Aziraphale’s face and noticed he looked legitimately sad in that golden-retriever-told-there-would-be-no-walkies-to-be-had-today way that he got. Crowley hauled himself up with a sigh and sat with his legs tucked underneath him to bring them on an eye level. “Okay. What’s got your knickers in a twist now, angel?”

“What’s got my—?” Aziraphale looked like he was going to take the bait for a moment, but all the fight drained out of him soon after. That sad dog look returned only more kicked-puppy-er. Great. “Why won’t you let me heal you? Are you afraid it will hurt? You know I’d never try to hurt you.”

Crowley tilted his head to the side, surreptitiously looking down at Aziraphale’s groin to give himself the strength to deal with this dense, beautiful being he may or may have pined after for thousands of years. “I don’t want you to heal me because nothing needs healing. I asked you for these bruises, and I’m bloody well gonna keep them awhile. I earned them.”

Aziraphale’s eyes grew a little sharp at that. Almost… predatory. It made Crowley shiver happily to see.

What Aziraphale said in a very gentle voice was, “Still, I didn’t ask beforehand. I should have asked. I don’t want to cross a line.”

_Fuck_. Why was he so adorable? Crowley just had to kiss his dumb, stupid, dumb, prim little mouth for that.

“Trust me.” Crowley kissed the tip of Aziraphale’s sickeningly cute slightly upturned nose. “To know my own limits. It’s not like you can break this body with those tiny teeth of yours.” He kissed Aziraphale on one cheek and then the other with equally annoying loud smacks. “I’ll tell you to stop if you do something I don’t like.” He kissed Aziraphale’s forehead, not to try to soothe away the worried creases there or anything. Definitely not. “I expect you’d do the same as well?”

“Of course, darling.” Ah. There was the smile back. Very good. “You’re more of a sweetheart than I ever imagined, you know.” 

“Hrk.” Crowley’s traitorous heart started beating double time so loud that he was sure Aziraphale heard it. He blurted, “Let me give you a blowjob.”

Aziraphale’s expression softened even more and he reclined back into the pillows to prop himself up on his elbows. “If you insist.”

\---

At some point during a week of playful, exploratory lovemaking (with a memorable break for wine and charcuterie) Aziraphale got the idea into his head that he was going about things all the wrong way with Crowley. Or not _wrong_ exactly but definitely out of order. He had not yet told Crowley that he was certain he was in love with the demon, and that just would not do.

He couldn’t just say it in the throes of passion. That was too… cheap. Too much like a Hollywood movie.

No, Crowley deserved only the finest of courtship. Crowley deserved to be wooed. He deserved furtive, longing looks from across a crowded room. He deserved passionate letters he could tie in a bundle with velvet ribbon and store in a hand carved wooden box on his writing desk. He deserved fresh flowers carefully picked out and arranged for both aesthetics and hidden meaning. He deserved a sudden brush of hands so thrilling in its hint towards deeper intimacies, whispered promises, a confession of love with only the silver moon to bear witness.

With a little research Aziraphale was certain he could provide the perfect courtship for his Beloved. Better late than never as humans liked to say.

For the record, this was the reason he decided to go home.

\---

The door chime in the front of the shop rang even though Aziraphale was certain everything was locked before he sat down to work on his project. He didn’t get up to check who it was with any real urgency. There was only one person who would bother to give him that sort of warning if they wanted inside after all.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale watched the demon race into the doorway.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley darted forward to draw Aziraphale into his arms and kiss him all over his face. The tip of his forked tongue tickled when he pressed his face to Aziraphale’s neck to inhale. “You’re okay. Thank, uh, somebody. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Of course I’m okay. Crowley?” Aziraphale’s voice rose in alarm as Crowley slipped out of his arms to kneel at his feet.

“Angel, please don’t leave me. I can’t go back to the way things were when I didn’t see you for decades at a time. If you didn’t want to keep having sex you should have just said so. But I thought you were… It doesn’t matter. I don’t need it, angel, I promise. I only need you. Please.” Crowley took a deep breath like what he was about to say would be the hardest thing of all and continued in a strained voice, “Entreat me not to leave you, or to turn back from following after you; for wherever you go, I will go; and wherever you lodge, I will lodge.”

“I…” Aziraphale had no idea what to say to this impassioned speech. With one gentle hand on Crowley’s head, Aziraphale cast around his back room, vainly trying to find the answer in his books. 

His gaze caught on his untouched teacup. Only, that couldn’t have been right. All the liquid was gone, evaporated away, and only an ugly brownish stain remained behind.

“How,” Aziraphale started to ask, reaching down to tilt Crowley’s face up. “How long have I been gone?”

Crowley frowned from behind his sunglasses. “Almost four months. I wanted to give you your space, but I couldn’t wait anymore.”

“Four months?” Aziraphale dropped to his knees so he could kneel with Crowley. It didn’t feel right to be standing over him. “I meant to take a week at most. I’m so sorry, my dear.”

“What were you doing?” The corner of Crowley’s mouth turned up slightly as amusement started to cut through his desperation.

Well. Now was just as good a time as any. Aziraphale had already ruined everything.

Aziraphale took both of Crowley’s hands in his own and admitted, “I was trying to think of the perfect way to tell you how much I love you.”

Something curious happened.

On a surface level Crowley stiffened and opened his mouth slightly as if to give an answer that never came.

On another more metaphysical level Aziraphale was almost bowled over in a double whammy of waves of some of the strongest love that he’d ever experienced and the realization that he’d sensed this particular love numerous times over the years and dismissed it because he hadn’t recognized it as such. This love bore about as much resemblance to the love he felt from humans as plain grapes do to wine; it would have been like a child in their nursery play kitchen trying to recreate the lonely bottle of Chateau Margaux that was the only thing left in Aziraphale's wine cabinet. No human could ever even hope to live long enough to nurture a love this tender, this mature, this pure, this deep.

Just as soon as it flared out, Crowley seemed to draw his love back into his skin. Aziraphale only felt it as polite flicker so divinely subtle he could have easily overlooked if he didn’t know it was there.

And he hadn’t. 

Aziraphale had never noticed what was there the whole time.

“I’m going to buy you a cellphone,” was what Crowley said, but Aziraphale knew that meant ‘I love you too, you idiot.’

A ladybird beetle walked a slow circle around the saucer of Aziraphale’s long-abandoned teacup.

\---

They went out for curry and held hands while they waited for their food to arrive.

It happened on accident. 

Crowley just happened to rest his hand on the tabletop palm up as he looked over the menu. Aziraphale thought it was a shame to see it so empty so he laced his fingers through to fill the space with adoration.

They could hear the clatter of dishes and loud laughter from the back as the kitchen staff worked through orders. A dozen different conversations ebbed and flowed all around them in the restaurant proper, and Aziraphale and Crowley sat in the eye of it all, calmly folded into their love for each other. 

It felt good to be out among all the life they’d helped to save again for the first time since they escaped punishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter Crowley quotes Ruth 1:16 NKJV
> 
> They're not really going to quote the bible anymore in this fic, but there are references as the obvious one I excerpted out in the summary hasn't happened yet.
> 
> In the next chapter: A Gay Disaster and a gay celebration


	3. Orange (Healing)

** _iii. healing_ **

“I really don’t see anything romantic in proposing. It is very romantic to be in love. But there is nothing romantic about a definite proposal. Why, one may be accepted. One usually is, I believe. Then the excitement is over. The very essence of romance is uncertainty.”

_The Importance of Being Earnest_ \- Oscar Wilde

\---

There were no more orders anymore. What good and evil acts Aziraphale and Crowley wrought were small affairs brought on by force of habit. Nothing big enough to get noticed by any occult or ethereal forces. At least they hoped nobody noticed.

Someone did. 

And She would only smile while She watched Aziraphale calm a young barista who had been yelled at until she cried as Crowley convinced the radio to play the poor girl’s favorite song a few times in a row, much to the consternation of the other coffee shop employees and patrons. 

\---

The bell rang merrily as Crowley slouched into Aziraphale’s bookshop and up to the desk where Aziraphale did crossword puzzles to ignore potential customers. There were currently only two that Crowley could see: a middle-aged woman and a tall, teenage boy at that awkward beginning stage of long limbs and baby fat trailing along behind her along behind her bored out of his young mind. Two was still more than Crowley had been hoping for since Aziraphale tended to complain about wiles and the working thereof when witnesses were present.

“Didn’t expect you to be open,” Crowley remarked as he casually turned his back on the store to lean on the desk.

“This is a shop,” Aziraphale pointed out. “I do have to open it sometimes.”

Crowley shifted to rest his chin in his hand. Fuck was he ever smitten with Aziraphale and his tiny little reading glasses perched on the end of his nose and his self-satisfied little smile at the quality of his witticisms. 

Yes, that was perfect. 

They were naturally falling into the familiar script of their interactions. First, they’d banter a bit until Aziraphale’s customers left. Crowley would suggest lunch, and Aziraphale would eagerly accept. Once Aziraphale was full and happy Crowley could nonchalantly shift the narrative and pop the question. Or an adjacent question. A question feeling out Aziraphale’s receptiveness to receiving The Question.

Crowley’s elbow slipped and he reached out to grab a mug full of pens before it fell off the desk. A flash of color caught his attention.

There was a little rainbow flag made of stiff fabric that stuck straight among Aziraphale’s mismatched writing utensils. Aziraphale didn’t even look up when Crowley lifted it out of the cup to twirl it in his hand. Did he know it was there? Did he know what it meant?

“Angel,” Crowley started and stopped with a frown. Too flippant. He needed to be serious. He could do that. “Aziraphale. What’s this then?”

Aziraphale’s whole face lit up when he looked, and if Crowley was not impervious to fire he would have melted away in the heat of Aziraphale’s incandescent smile. “Oh! A lovely young woman gave me that while we were out to the bakery the other day I’ve been meaning to tell you. We were, uh, distracted by…” Aziraphale’s eyes flicked away to the shop to see how close his customers were and lowered his voice. “You know. And, well, to make a long story short, I broke it while we were… You know. I’ve fixed it now!”

Crowley watched as Aziraphale plucked the flag out of his hand and gave it a jaunty little wave. That answered exactly nothing.

“Right, right.” Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s hand so he’d stop waving the little rainbow flag and being so distractingly endearing. “But do you know what it means?”

At this Aziraphale fixed Crowley with a look that politely announced its owner possibly thought that Crowley was the dimmest creature on the good green Earth but loved him anyway. “Of course I know what it’s for, darling, I met the designer when it was first made. It’s a pity some of the stripes got lost over time. I liked the original color meanings: sex, life, healing, sunlight, nature, magic or art, serenity, and spirit. Covers everything important, don’t you think?”

“I’ll cover you in something important,” Crowley said nonsensically. It was not his best rejoinder, but Aziraphale seemed to get the hint judging by the delicate blush that bloomed on his cheeks.

“Oh.” Aziraphale slid his eyes away to examine a haphazard pile of books. “I was thinking since it’s June it might be nice to go to the parade together this year. I haven’t been to one since the 1980s. I know we’re not men or even exactly the same sort of being strictly speaking, but I’ve always felt a kinship with that kind of human. I’d like to be there when they celebrate their love. I thought it might be nice if you were there as well so we could celebrate ours too. What do mmf?”

Crowley smashed his lips against Aziraphale’s mouth in a kiss that was mostly teeth in a bad way but was all the more passionate for it. When he backed off he whispered, “Of coursssse I’ll go to Pride with you.”

Someone went “eep” behind him.

Usually people didn’t notice what Crowley didn’t want them to notice, but maybe he’d been too caught up in excitement to keep his feelings in check. Maybe the slip up was due to his longing to already be standing out in the sunlight holding Aziraphale’s hand, unafraid and in love among hundreds of humans who had undergone their own trials to stand where they were celebrating themselves too. 

When Crowley turned to tell whoever was staring the show was over he was met with a very wide-eyed boy clutching the strap of his canvas messenger bag like a lifeline. There were pin badges and buttons catching the light like priceless treasures scattered all over the bag’s flap. Crowley could see a shiny gold scarab beetle; a small rectangle with pink, blue, and white stripes on it; an over-sized round button that said he/him; and a heart colored in with rainbow stripes. The rest were all references Crowley didn’t understand. Anime maybe. Kids liked anime, right?

“Hallo,” Crowley said instead.

“I don’t think they have it. Let’s go eat lunch.” The woman emerged empty-handed from the stacks to step up behind the boy. She looked from her charge to Crowley and Aziraphale to the little flag in Aziraphale’s hand and smiled slightly. 

The boy kept staring at Aziraphale and Crowley as he was ushered out of the store.

“Well,” Crowley said once they were finally alone. “How about we close up and get you some lunch too?”

“There’s no rush. We could pick up where we left off discussing our plans for Pride. I wouldn’t mind enjoying a snack before my meal.” Aziraphale’s eyes flicked down Crowley's body and then back up to his face. “Would you be a dear and lock up for me?”

“Sure.” Crowley snapped to make it so. Getting up to do it would have just wasted valuable time Crowley could have spent kissing Aziraphale, who had perfect and very wicked teeth he would use to bite Crowley’s bottom lip if teased sufficiently. And, oh, how Crowley intended to tease.

He— _What did Aziraphale just say?_

“Wait,” Crowley said against Aziraphale’s lips as he was reeled back into a softer kiss than his hasty attempt.

“Angel,” he tried when Aziraphale gave up on his lips and started to kiss along his jawline. “Wait, I’m sorry. Did you just call me a snack?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale pulled away with a sigh. “I did. Now if you don’t want to kiss me I’ll go back to my crossword.”

Crowley obediently took off his sunglasses and set them aside to prepare for making out in earnest. “Of course I want to kiss you. Why wouldn’t I want to kiss you? You know me. Always up for some snogging. Just… Who taught you that? I know I didn’t teach you that.”

“I know how to use the Internet, Crowley,” Aziraphale said very patiently while very impatiently grabbing Crowley by his lapels so he would focus on the task at hand.

To his credit Crowley didn’t try to push the point any further. He did think very hard about what kind of sites Aziraphale was visiting and whether he ought to put some kind of child lock on his angel’s phone before it all washed out in a pleasurable haze.

\---

They almost didn’t make it to the parade.

_“Crowley.”_

“What is it, angel?” Crowley asked from where he sat flipping through an interior design magazine and steadfastly pretending he wasn’t touched by the fact that most of Aziraphale’s clothes now lived in the closet in his Mayfair flat.

“Is that what you’re wearing today?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley looked up and saw that Aziraphale was dressed much the same as he usually was. There were the brown oxfords, pressed khaki trousers, blue shirt, and a new waistcoat actually that looked like a very good vintage reproduction in the style of Aziraphale’s favorite old one. Off to the side Aziraphale’s coat was laid out on top of the bed while he did up the buttons on his cuffs. The only thing that really differed was that he’d traded out his tartan bow tie for a cheery rainbow one.

“Is that what _you’re_ wearing today?” Crowley parroted back in a mocking voice. He set his magazine aside to intervene, grabbing Aziraphale’s hands to stop him. “Let’s go casual. I know it’s hard for you to stop being a stuffy walking museum exhibit, but you should let down your hair a little. It’s a special occasion after all.”

“Casual?” Aziraphale squeaked in distress but stayed still to allow Crowley to roll his sleeves up to his elbows. “Casual? Going out in my shirtsleeves is casual. You look like you’re heading out looking to pull at a BDSM nightclub.”

“You don’t like it?” Crowley twisted to inspect his own outfit: black mesh crop top, slim women’s cut leather jacket, tight black jeans he couldn’t actually fit any underwear underneath unless he miraculously did away with his genitals (and he wouldn’t because he always needed them at the ready just in case) or manually tucked them back (which again not practical for easy use). This was how people dressed for Pride these days and to be honest how they had in the past as well, more or less. Aziraphale knew that, and more importantly Crowley knew that Aziraphale knew that.

Aziraphale sighed the kind of deep sigh only a being who had been on earth for thousands of years could sigh. “I didn’t say that. It’s just not very festive is it? All black. You need some color. And please… At least cover up your nipples. I can’t go out with you if I have to see them all day.”

“Why not?” Crowley asked, but the rest of his flirty teasing died in his throat when he slid a hand down between Aziraphale’s legs and realized there was something already there under his trousers. Then he just said a lot of words that were mostly just sounds like hrk and uh and ngh.

Aziraphale swatted his hand away. “_Please,_ Crowley. We don’t have time for that. I want you to do me up in some makeup so we can leave. You’re so much better with eyeliner than I am.”

“It’s still there. You haven’t put it away,” Crowley babbled.

“I can’t always be putting it away and taking it back out again. I don’t always know when I’m going to need it to make love to you ahead of time.” Aziraphale pulled away from Crowley and walked over to sit down on the side of the bed.

Crowley followed after as soon as he came to his senses. He pressed one of Aziraphale’s hands between both of his own. “Hey. It’s okay; I do that too. You know I’m always down to fuck.”

“It’s different for you. You’re a—” Aziraphale cut off his own old argument, leaning down to kiss Crowley’s hand on top of his own apologetically. “I don’t know how humans do this without losing their minds. I want to share everything with you I possibly can, my dear. I want to spend eternity with you, and I still feel like that’s not enough time to truly show you how much I love you.”

Crowley shifted to place a firm hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder and be a grounding touch for his angel. It wasn’t because his knees had grown a little weak. His voice definitely came out sounding completely normal when he joked, “We really have gone native haven’t we?”

Aziraphale hummed his agreement. He stared up at Crowley.

Crowley stared back.

Aziraphale reached up to push Crowley’s shades onto the top of his head.

“I thought we didn’t have time for this,” Crowley pointed out as he obligingly climbed onto Aziraphale’s lap.

“We don’t have time for sex, but kissing is fine. Might help us get into the spirit of things.” Aziraphale’s eyes shone with mischief in that certain way Crowley found absolutely irresistible. The absolute bastard. “Besides the laws of physics don’t really apply to us. We can make it there as fast as we like.”

Crowley had to kiss him for that one.

\---

London Pride was a riot of color as people from all walks of life marched and danced and cheered and sang all together. Crowley watched it all from underneath an oversized rainbow umbrella that Aziraphale had opened and held up over both of their heads to block the sun a little. The two of them were pressed closer together than they usually stayed in public for any extended period of time. Aziraphale’s arm was around Crowley’s waist, Crowley’s draped over Aziraphale’s shoulders, and they fit together perfectly, a part of everything around them and yet tucked neatly into their own miraculous pocket of calm.

Crowley’s solution for hiding his scandalous nipples turned out to be a pair of heart shaped, glittery rainbow pasties that Aziraphale had sighed over but hadn’t complained about. Obviously that meant Crowley had won and could do whatever he wanted.

Somewhere between leaving the flat and staking out their spot to watch the parade, Crowley had miracled up a fake pair of rainbow angel wings like he’d seen several other Pride goers wearing because he thought they were hilarious and adorable. (“Don’t you think those are a little demeaning?” Aziraphale had said. “You have your own beautiful and very real wings that are actually properly sized.”)

Crowley turned his head to study Aziraphale’s profile, allowing himself a private moment to despair at just how much Aziraphale’s eyeliner was doing it for him. 

“I’m starting to understand what you’ve been saying about humans all these years. They’re so resilient. They did all of this themselves without any intervention at all.” Aziraphale met Crowley’s gaze with sparkling eyes and an absolutely beatific smile. 

Crowley nodded. “I like what they’ve done with the rainbow. I never liked that ark business. How can anyone have the gall to paste a bloody sign up in the sky as a promise not to kill everyone by drowning them again when people still die in floods all the time? No, this is much better than an empty promise.”

“It’s still a promise though,” Aziraphale said slowly. “I think it’s a promise for them to stay true to themselves.”

This was it. This was Crowley’s chance. “Speaking of promises, it might be nice to make one like that. You know, to be true to each other, er, not that I’m not committed to you, but you know. Formally. I could get used to people knowing I’m yours.”

“What are you talking about? ‘Formally’?” Aziraphale’s confused frown broke into an awed expression. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

“If that’s what you want, angel.” But then as Aziraphale extracted himself from Crowley’s hold to get a better look at him the answer became “yes.”

Aziraphale took off his own signet ring and it politely resized itself to fit Crowley’s finger. That was right. Rings! Crowley had completely forgotten that usually the person proposing was the one to give one, but this suited him fine. It was far better having a little piece of Aziraphale as an engagement ring than anything he could conjure up.

“Yes! I’ll marry you!” Aziraphale laughed as he leaned up for a kiss. “And I’ll marry you again when we have to pretend we died and we’re someone else.”

They kissed out in the open without any kind of weapons or precautions to keep them safe. They kept kissing and Crowley realized for the first time in a long time that he wasn’t scared. He hadn’t been worried at all for months now that Hell or Heaven were still watching and biding their time for him to slip up and reveal a secret vulnerability. He felt free by Aziraphale’s side. He felt like he would be allowed to have this, and everything, all the pain he had ever endured up to this point was more than worth getting to be with Aziraphale. 

They truly had been left alone.

When they finally broke apart to settle into each other’s arms and go back to watching the parade, a drag queen on a passing float with hair as shiny and black as a beetle winked at Crowley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the summary excerpt is finally in the fic! Also the chapter naming/theme conventions are revealed.
> 
> In the next chapter: sloth and a sign


	4. Yellow (Sunlight)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back at it again!
> 
> Sorry this chapter took so long. A lot happened since I last posted a chapter, and I ended up completely rewriting this one after the overall fic grew a plot. I should have known this would happen when I decided to post this in installments but whatever. It's worth it if the better idea is the one that makes it into the fic for you to see, right?

** _iv. sunlight _ **

“I'm in love for the first time  
Don't you know it's gonna last  
It's a love that lasts forever  
It's a love that had no past”

“Don’t Let Me Down” - The Beatles

\---

Contrary to popular belief, angels in their natural state are not beautiful. What eyewitness accounts exist describe angels as being terrible beings of fire and lightning and burnished metals, things with too many faces and too many eyes, things that aren’t even necessarily bipedal. You have to understand that angels were not created in God’s image as humans were but instead they were created like a scalpel or an ax for a specific purpose, utilitarian designs with no frills. So it made sense for angels in the modern world to want to inhabit perfectly detailed human corporations grown for their use even when in Heaven; it made sense for demons with their twisted, discarded bodies to want to possess humans before they learned the secret of mimicking their own customized copies. 

Humanity is, was, and will always be beautiful just like a satellite photograph of a galaxy is beautiful even though it could never possibly be the real thing.

\---

Aziraphale marked his page and set his book on the nightstand when he felt his partner start to stir beside him in bed. 

Just that small motion set a warmth radiating out from his heart because on that very first night Aziraphale had spent in Crowley’s room there hadn’t been a nightstand with a lamp on it so he could continue reading while Crowley slept. There hadn’t been a little desk in the corner holding a laptop half hidden by paper detritus. There hadn’t been a set of chairs at the desk so Crowley could heckle Aziraphale and lean against him while he browsed the Instant Gram for pictures of new dishes at restaurants he could try. There hadn’t been a wardrobe or a shoe rack or a wastepaper bin. There hadn’t been a stylish set of low bookshelves running under the large window. Hadn’t even been a window for that matter.

The room had been more of a cell before they started up together. All that had been in it was a large bed, a rug to protect Crowley’s feet from morning chills, and a full length mirror. Very minimalist. Very chic. Very lonely.

Aziraphale tucked Crowley’s hair behind his ear so he could see the snake tattoo and smiled. So much had changed in so short a time; after all what was a few years compared to a few millennia? The sunlight turned the loose curls that fell past Crowley’s shoulders to copper and flame.

“Uhn.” Crowley wrinkled his nose and pressed his face against Aziraphale’s thigh.

“Good morning to you too, my dear,” Aziraphale said overly brightly, both because he was genuinely glad Crowley was awake and because being a bit of a pain had never stopped being fun. It wasn’t his fault that Crowley was so expressive and so incapable of ever letting any little comment go.

Crowley expressed his lack of amusement solely through turning his head enough to glare at Aziraphale with one half-lidded eye.

That little hint of yellow, the same warm hue as the morning sun pouring through the window, compelled Aziraphale to nudge Crowley over onto his back. Even with hair in his face and scowling Crowley seemed to glow in this light against his dark sheets. Aziraphale was suddenly glad that he’d never managed to talk Crowley into white linens, not even a nice blue as a compromise. Crowley _had_ always looked very smart in his black ensembles. Maybe it wasn’t just due to the hint of the forbidden in the bold, modern cuts of his clothing and the way he seemed to know how to pose just so to display all his best angles. Maybe there was something else to it after all, like a masterfully cut jewel displayed on a velvet cushion.

“Angel.” Crowley sighed, plucking Aziraphale’s hand from where it had started finger combing back his hair and holding it against his cheek. “What are you staring at?”

“You are such a beautiful creature. So fearfully and wonderfully made.” Aziraphale couldn’t help but lean down for a moment to kiss Crowley’s forehead.

“It’s not fair to lay into me so early. I haven’t even had my coffee yet,” Crowley muttered. The way he turned his face to press against Aziraphale’s palm to hide his embarrassment was the most darling thing. 

“It’s never too early for me to admire you,” Aziraphale admonished. 

To demonstrate he slid down the bed so he could fully take Crowley into his arms and look into his eyes. He traced the line of Crowley’s spine, as Crowley took a moment to figure out what to do with his own arms. A long time ago he’d wondered if perhaps Crowley had overdone the length of his limbs a bit, being a snake with no real point of reference for how they should go, but now Aziraphale liked the way Crowley’s legs tangled with his own when they laid together like this. He liked the way Crowley’s long, thin fingers sank into his skin, the perfect contrast between his softness and Crowley’s sharp edges.

How had they gotten lucky enough to feel this gift their kind was never meant to receive?

Aziraphale wanted to press his praises into Crowley’s skin. He could see now how lovely it would be to spend the day in bed kissing every inch of his lover’s body, giving Crowley whatever he wanted afterward. “In fact,” he said, putting his plan into motion, “I propose we have a bit of a lie in today so that I can continue to admire you.” 

“Oh?” The corner of Crowley’s mouth quirked up in a lopsided half-smile. “And what if I refuse?”

Aziraphale grinned back. “I have a very compelling argument in my favor.”

“Let’s hear it then.” Crowley watched expectantly as Aziraphale contemplated how exactly he wanted to begin. Had the naked adoration always been in his eyes and Aziraphale had just never noticed? Best not to speculate. Regrets only took away time better spent loving Crowley now.

Aziraphale kissed the tip of Crowley’s nose.

“You can start any time,” Crowley said cooly despite the way his fingers curled up against Aziraphale’s waist. “I’m listening,” he continued before Aziraphale cut him off with another kiss. “Angel,” he sighed as he tugged at Aziraphale’s shirt to pull him closer, to pull Aziraphale on top of himself.

“Are you convinced then?” Aziraphale asked. He was the very picture of innocence bracing himself over Crowley and widening his legs a little for the knee that slid up between his thighs. 

“Mm,” Crowley hummed consideringly. “You’re not just doing this to get out of shopping for wedding clothes today are you? That’s like something I would do. I’m fine with conjuring up my own suit.”

Aziraphale froze. 

The truth was he’d forgotten all about it. That wasn’t right, was it? He loved Crowley. He should have been excited about planning their wedding, but they were no closer to figuring out what sort of ceremony they wanted than when Crowley had popped the question.

Before he could start questioning whose fault it was that nothing was getting done and the upsetting possibilities those answers implied, Aziraphale answered, “Of course not, my dear. We have plenty of time for that later. In any case we shouldn’t see each other’s wedding clothes before the big day. It’s tradition.”

“Tradition, yeah,” Crowley echoed. He muttered something that wasn’t quite clear enough as he started undoing the first button on Aziraphale’s shirt.

\---

"Well?" Crowley put down the fork he'd been using to push a bit of icing around on his plate and propped his chin on his hand instead. He had both elbows on the table, absolutely appalling manners, and Aziraphale adored him.

"I'm not sure," Aziraphale answered.

The corner of Crowley's mouth curved up into a wry half smile. "Oh come on. Really? This is the third bakery. You don’t have any idea which cake you’d like at the wedding? Not even a top three favorites?”

“It’s an important decision. I’ll know the one when I taste it,” Aziraphale hedged, taking another bite of the spiced walnut cake slice the lovely girls at the bakery had brought out for them to try.

There was champagne aplenty, and Aziraphale was starting to feel a little bubbly himself. Being brought slice after slice of cake while soft music played and their hostess tittered over the human safe version of his and Crowley’s love story was perfect. It was much easier to visit bakeries and consider caterers than consider for a moment that, well, they weren’t entirely sure who they might host at their reception. Even if either of them had wanted to it would be impossible to invite anyone from either Heaven or Hell to the wedding; that left humans to serve as guests. Who did that leave? The former Antichrist and his buddies? The chefs and bakers whose establishments Aziraphale frequented? The few locals who’d managed to learn Aziraphale’s ways and sneak into his bookshop when he was open to read and never attempt to buy anything?

It had been a long time since Aziraphale had maintained anything even resembling a circle of friends. It was so much easier in his gentlemen’s club in the old days. There used to be rules and expectations about how one should socialize, but now, well, the Season was over.

“... and I’ll leave you to finish up here then,” Crowley was saying.

“What?”

Crowley paused on his way to the door and turned back to face Aziraphale. A few strides bought him back to the table in range for his hands to be clasped gently into Aziraphale’s hold. His crooked little smile widened as he bent down for a kiss that tasted a bit like salted caramel. 

“You weren’t paying attention,” Crowley noted, weirdly smug for someone who’d been ignored. Before Aziraphale could protest he pressed a finger against Aziraphale’s lips. “It’s alright, angel. Finish your tasting without me. I have some business to attend to.”

“Business?” Aziraphale half rose out of his chair to follow Crowley. “What kind of business? We’re retired. You don’t have any demonic duties anymore.”

“Oh well, you know, that doesn’t mean I don’t have, er, stuff. It’s all very, uh… You wouldn't be interested. Don’t worry about it.” Crowley flicked his hand out in a nonchalant little wave. “And don’t wait up for me!”

Aziraphale awkwardly sat back down.

\---

There was a spider plant in Aziraphale’s bookshop. He wasn't quite sure where it came from because it wasn't one of Crowley's; he knew every plant Crowley had sneaked in from the very illegal orchid next to a stack of 19th century novels to the tiny succulent that lived on his desk. The spider plant predated all of those little breadcrumbs of Crowley’s love, wasn’t a part of the vanguard to colonize Aziraphale’s life with green and growing things that echoed a meeting so long ago.

"You," Crowley growled in a low and menacing tone that froze Aziraphale in place in the doorway of his office. "Not another word or I'm going to throw you in a wood chipper. Are we clear?"

_Oh dear_.

“You are _not_ going to ruin this for him,” Crowley snarled.

It had been a long time since the last broad-shouldered man in a suit had come to try to convince Aziraphale to sell the bookshop. (The last one still sent Christmas cards from his new life pursuing his passion breeding little Papillon dogs to show. Little Diablo's Fury was sure to do well at Crufts next year.) Crowley had probably never been around when Aziraphale had handled them before. There was no need to be so harsh with them! They were just misguided. They thought they could take advantage of someone they perceived as weak and only needed to be shown they were wrong.

“I’m so sorry,” Aziraphale was saying in a voice as bright and congenial as possible as he flew out into the shop to rescue the stranger from Crowley’s clutches. Any other words he might have wanted to say died in his throat when he saw that Crowley was talking to the spider plant.

“I don’t know how you found out. But you better not sssay a word to him,” Crowley hissed at the plant. Then his face shifted into a grimace. “What? _No_, you can’t bribe me! I’m not making you into a bouquet for the wedding. Do you even know what a bouquet is? Of course _I_ know. Lot of dead flowers cut up and tied together, that’s what a bouquet is.”

Aziraphale watched all of this impassively. He was able to detect a hint of amusement in his spider plant but nothing as nuanced as he gleaned from Crowley’s side of the conversation. He, well, he just didn’t speak vegetable it seemed.

Crowley gave one final glare to the spider plant before turning away from it. “Aziraphale! Good morning! I was thinking mooncakes, er, that is. You wanted some. Right? We should go get them. Take your mind off of stressing over color schemes.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said evenly. “Why are you giving my houseplants sentience?” 

“Oh, you know.” Crowley made an expansive gesture that somehow ended with his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders. “Habit. You coax one species into the knowledge of good and evil, and it just kind of keeps happening. It’s not my fault that geese chose evil.”

Aziraphale frowned. “What?”

“Anyway,” Crowley barreled on with all the grace of an eel that had suddenly found itself sprouting wings and thrust into the air. “Mooncakes, yeah? Maybe dim sum and cocktails? We could go to Yauatcha.”

“Oh! Could we?” Aziraphale asked, leaning in to Crowley’s touch and forgetting all about the planning he had been doing. If he was being honest with himself, he knew that he would have jumped at any excuse not to keep working.

\---

Everything was absolutely awful.

“Careful!” Aziraphale shouted as he clutched at the dashboard. Crowley was weaving in and out of traffic as usual in a rush to get back home after a frankly disastrous visit to the latest on Aziraphale’s list of potential wedding sites. They must have looked at just about every rent-able space that wasn’t a church in all of England by that point. The places were nice, yes, but each one either brought up memories that made the husbands-to-be forget all about why they’d gone there in the first place as they laughed and reminisced or just left them feeling vaguely annoyed at how much actual humans had to pay to use them. Nowhere stood out as the perfect spot.

Nothing had seemed right. 

Nothing, not one single thing, Aziraphale had tested or researched to see if he might like it for their wedding had seemed right so far, and Crowley had stopped offering any input about halfway through the planning process. They didn't even have a time of year picked out! Aziraphale was honestly at his wit’s end. Was this how humans felt when they got married?

Crowley didn’t say a word. Not even nonsensical chatter under his breath. He was eerily silent until he lurched the Bentley to a stop outside the bookshop and cut the engine.

They sat in the car.

Aziraphale stared stupidly out at his shop. 

This wasn’t where he wanted to be. He wanted to curl up in Crowley’s bed and be held tight as he tried to figure out a problem that had been weighing on his mind for over a year now: how does one celebrate a concept so great, so awe inspiring that he still found it hard to wrap his mind around it? He would get to spend _eternity_ loving Crowley, and Crowley wanted that too. Being asked and saying yes was enough for Aziraphale. No ceremony could top the reality of their love. No paperwork could adequately convey the weight of their bond.

And yet…

“Angel,” Crowley finally broke the silence. “I think you should give the wedding planning a rest. If I’d known you’d work yourself up so much over it I wouldn’t have asked. No, that’s a lie. Don’t give me that face. I’m not saying I don’t want to marry you.” He reached for Aziraphale's hand in a transparently placating gesture that still worked.

Aziraphale, who was definitely _not_ making any sort of face, especially not one of disappointment, said frowningly, “Well, if you’d help maybe we’d be done by now.”

“Yeah… I don’t think so. We’d be having a row about aesthetic differences in less than a day. Less than an hour probably.” Crowley gave Aziraphale’s hand a squeeze. “I’ve always thought that weddings were invented by my old lot. Getting married is heavenly, of course, but weddings? Weddings are hellish.”

“You may have a point,” Aziraphale conceded. 

“Besides we’re practically already married. We already did the promises to be true. In sickness and health doesn’t apply to us anyway. What else do we need to be considered married than our signatures on a piece of paper? We could do that today. I could miracle up the forms so we could do it now if you don’t care about doing it the official human way. I can forge everything else and have it filed in a blink.” Crowley dropped Aziraphale’s hand to pat himself down for a pen.

“Now? You mean right now at this very moment? We haven’t even given notice.” Aziraphale wasn’t sure why he felt a little panicked at the thought.

The ceremony of it all didn’t really matter, but he’d secretly hoped that being Married would feel different than being Engaged, different than being an unofficial but very serious Something before that. Signing his name felt so mundane after— that was it! A sign!

Aziraphale had been hoping for a sign!

He’d been hoping that when he stumbled upon the right things for the wedding, just the right things to set off their special day right, he’d know. Somehow the right menu or suit jacket or flower arrangement would tell Aziraphale that he was doing the right thing. That this reward was what God had meant for him the entire time. That She was smiling down on him. That at the very least She approved. He shouldn't have still cared about Her approval, but he did. Somewhere deep down he cared a lot.

Aziraphale was unfortunately still very much an angel in this regard, even lapsed as he was.

“Why not now?” Crowley snapped his fingers, and there it was. The marriage certificate. He was _signing_ it as calm as you please.

“There are supposed to be witnesses. A registrar,” Aziraphale said as if he wasn’t already reaching to take the pen and sign his own name just where Crowley pointed. The clouds rolled back for one glorious moment so golden afternoon light filled the Bentley. 

Aziraphale’s heart sang in his chest. He was smiling. He wasn’t sure when he started but knew he couldn’t stop. A laugh started in Crowley’s mouth and ended in Aziraphale’s. They kissed and they kissed and they kissed until they had to break apart because of that laugh still bubbling brightly between them.

They were married. They were _married_!

"Now that we have that out of the way we can get to the good stuff. I wanted to tell you I’ve been—” Crowley flinched when the radio spurted to life.

It wasn’t Crowley’s usual man singing, not Mr. Mercury at all.

The song started with a few voices chanting the word love before one broke away to start in on a nonsensical list Aziraphale wasn’t quite sure how to take. Modern popular music. A whole lot of fluff as far as he was concerned. The brass band backing was a little unexpected though.

“The Beatles? Really? What are you doing?” Crowley chided the Bentley as he jabbed at the off button to the radio.

Since it was already off the song just kept playing through Crowley’s howls of disapproval.

“I think it’s rather sweet,” Aziraphale commented as the chorus hit again and he was informed that all he needed was love. Repeatedly.

Crowley finally slumped back in his seat in defeat. “Don’t encourage this. You’ll give my car the wrong idea.”

“Stop being so dramatic, dear. It was a kind gesture.” 

There was a dark spot that moved across the windshield at the corner of Aziraphale’s vision. Just a bug but beyond it the lights were on the bookshop. The lights were on and shadows were moving in the doorway when no one should have been inside. Aziraphale clutched Crowley’s wrist as the song drew to a close, and he could hear something else that he only vaguely noted in the background of the music as one of the singers broke from the chant that composed the rest of the song:

“_She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah._”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered after he wrestled back control of his corporation, only just narrowly avoiding floating out of his body entirely from shock. 

“I’m with you, angel.” And Crowley was.

Crowley was right there with Aziraphale as they cautiously approached the bookshop and opened to door. Whatever they were expecting to find inside it certainly wasn’t a small group of young people in party hats all shouting their congratulations. 

There was a young woman with serious eyes tempered by the amused twist of her mouth holding a cake box away from a scruffy young man with holes in his jeans that definitely did not look intentional. A young man who looked rather like an accountant but might have actually been an old man with a very young face very respectfully opened a bottle of champagne without popping the cork like his cherubic friend with a wicked gleam in his eyes was doing with another bottle. 

“Adam?”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he was the one who said it or if Crowley did. Maybe it was both of them.

“Hi.” Adam put down his bottle and pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket. “I got your invitation. Hope we’re not too late.”

“But- but how? I never sent any of them?” Aziraphale asked. He looked helplessly at Crowley, but Crowley was staring at another young man on the fringe of the group who hadn’t been shouting along with the rest of them.

“Warlock?” 

Aziraphale hadn’t heard Crowley’s voice sound a mix of husky and soft like that in a very long time.

The young man tucked his long hair behind his ear and looked up from his iPhone, did a double-take. “Nanny?”

The little party swallowed Aziraphale up as Adam’s friends marveled at how he and Crowley turned out to actually be real and looked almost exactly the same as when they were children. There was cake and drink and a tour through the shop. There were explanations, a few tears, and stories about how all the lovely young people were doing at uni. Aziraphale got to tell the real story of how he fell in love with Crowley with multiple interruptions from the demon himself. Numbers were exchanged. The spider plant’s hanging pot almost got knocked off its hook. All in all a very good wedding reception.

Crowley’s hand found the small of Aziraphale’s back, and Aziraphale moved closer to his husband’s side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter the Bentley (?) plays The Beatles' "All You Need Is Love" which in turn references "She Loves You"
> 
> In the next chapter: Crowley's completely unexpected surprise and a crop top

**Author's Note:**

> Not really using it at the moment but I can also be found at [heliodorwrites](https://heliodorwrites.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
